Madness
by pbows
Summary: In between season 3b; Stiles continues to lose his mind as Scott & co. work tirelessly to help him. Through thick and thin, friendship and a sense of loyalty has always triumphed against all odds, would a strong forged friendship from a past friend be good enough to help course through the Nogitsune?


In my seventeen years of living, I have never felt extreme sadness to the point of completely losing the ability to cry – and I'm a pretty passionate person, so if I'm really sad, I'd be bawling by now. As this mediocre concerned feeling surged up and rooted in my brain about Stiles, I hastily decided it was time to act upon the fantasy of coming back to my actual home, Beacon Hills. It's been three years since I've been at this place and it already seemed foreign to me.

I used to have such a warm welcome in the McCall house, with Mrs. McCall shining brightly at my presence and my self appointed brother, Scott, always excited for the new adventure we'd do. But now…as a very much-surprised Scott opening the door for me, a rush of negativity navigate towards me; his face surprised, but his eyes morose. I didn't hesitate to hug him.

"Hey, are you back for good?" He asked, tightening his hug.

All I wanted to do was lie and say yes, but instead I just smiled and asked, "What's going on with Stiles?" He looked shocked, which leads me to believe that there is indeed, something wrong, "Don't think I'm weird or anything, but I've been having some…dreams about him. They've all been pretty bad so I kind of…just turned up here."

"What do you mean…you dreamt of it?" He asked with an accusing tone, opening the door for me to go in.

I shrugged, stepping on the old house I used to run freely around with no care, "I don't really know, can't really remember them. It's just weird. I mean…I don't know why I always think it's about Stiles, I don't even see anything in it. I just have this gut feeling."

Mrs. McCall emerged from upstairs, "Scott, was that – oh my god! I can't believe it! Isla Carson, oh I've missed you!" She's always been a burst of energy and positivity, truly a role model to look up to. "Are you staying with us?"

"Uh mom – " Scott cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck.

I looked back at him and saw a pair of apologetic eyes. I've never felt awkward around Scott before and this feeling is too new, too different from before. This whirlwind of emotions from the past few weeks since my nightmares have started are starting to surface up and this whole kind-of-not-welcome homecoming from Scott wasn't helping.

"Oh I don't – I don't have to stay. I'm actually just going to check up on Stiles, make sure he's alright and I'll head back."

"But honey, you're always welcome – " Mrs. McCall replied, looking worried.

"Uh, I think Stiles is a bit…preoccupied at the moment. How about tomorrow? Actually I might have a friend who can take you in for the night if that's okay with you? She's really nice." Scott rambled, taking my bags and ushering me out.

This had been so embarrassing to be taken out like this. I get that we might not be as close anymore because I had to move away, but come on, I went all the way back to just talk to my friends, "Hey Scott…uh, it's fine. I can – I don't mind staying at the motel. You don't have to go through such trouble."

Scott was loading my bag in his mom's car when I noticed a motorcycle parked next to it. He's always wanted one…

He looked taken a back, realizing what his actions looked like from my perspective, "Hey…Isla, I'm sorry…I'm not trying to ditch you. We're just…it's complicated and I'm just…"

A roar of an oncoming truck made him stop and sigh. It was the sheriff's truck with Stiles in the passenger seat. I saw him perked up a little as he noticed me standing there. His expression turned from dim to a big smile. _At least someone missed me. _

"Isla?" He asked, jumping out of the car and hugging me, "What're you doing here?"

Mr. Stilinski had the same gloomy face that everyone's been spotting.

Well how do I put this in lay terms? With Scott to the rescue, "Why don't you and Isla hang out for a bit? I think my mom needs some help inside."

_Lie._

Scott and Stiles looked at each other knowingly, catching on to each other's plans. This is the first time I've never been included in something like this and it terribly breaks my heart. The sheriff smiled warmly at me, even when his smile seems unreal. He looked back at his son cautiously.

Everything's awkward and all I want is for things to go back to normal. Even funny, outgoing Stiles could barely hold himself together. As the sheriff and Scott tries to shuffle their way back in, I linked my arms to Stiles and dragged him away.

"So what's with all this weirdness?" I started, hoping I don't get any lies from him.

He looked at me faintly, "What weirdness? Nothing's weird."

Ah, I get denial instead.

I nodded, "So it's not weird that Scott wouldn't let me stay at his house tonight?"

"Well…it's just…just that you know, he hasn't told you about Isaac?" I shook my head, "Isaac's taking the guest bedroom. Kind of a friend, kind of a stray."

"Ah, I see. And your dad being a little too quiet? Because the sheriff is usually loud and just as awkward as you." I poked him, trying to lighten up the situation.

I don't really know where we're going; it's been way too long that I barely even remember the roads anymore. But this is what I came here for – to make sure Stiles is okay.

"He's just…you know, stress, getting to him and all that." He answered, his voice getting softer and softer: his telltale sign of lying.

Finally, I stopped him in the middle of the road. Stiles is one of the few people I can truly be honest with without fearing some sort of weirdness or backlash from. I've always been more comfortable with him in every sense that I don't usually hide things from him. Taking both of his hands in mine, I looked in his eyes, only to see extreme exhaustion.

"I've been having these dreams. I don't really understand it really…completely wakes me up frightened," I started. "There's no monsters, no anything…just complete darkness, and it scares me."

He looked concerned, rubbing his thumb on my hand, "I haven't been sleeping well either."

_Finally, a truth._

"Stiles, my dreams are about you."

I can feel him freezing up, a sense of fear floating in his eyes, "M-me?"

I didn't want to disconnect with the truth that he's freely giving me, so I held on to him tighter, "I don't even know how…but every time I wake up, I just- I somehow think of you. That's why I'm here, I was worried."

A flight of emotions occurred through him; see – Stiles is so readable. His face has always been expressive: there was that fear that's been in everyone's faces, the look of guilt and a sense of confusion. What is going on in this place?

"I think…I think we should head back." He said trying to retract away.

I shook my head in defiance, "No. Why won't you tell me what's going on?"

He covered his face with his palm and groaned, "You can't be having dreams like this, Isla. There's no way. God, this place has some sort of curse!"

He wasn't making any sense, cursing the world, groaning and moaning. This wasn't the Stiles I knew, the Stiles I grew up with. His face has been contorted in stress and caution the moment I saw him. What happened to him? To Scott? To this whole place?

I tried to reassure him, "Stiles, I'm fine I just don't understand what's going on. You all seem to be keeping a secret and I get that I've been gone but if you would just tell me a little bit to calm my mind, that's all I need."

The trip has never been for interrogation. I didn't mean to suddenly insert my life back to theirs, but I never thought it'd be this difficult to communicate with them. He merely kept rambling on and on about unfairness and kept repeating, "Not you too, Isla." I'm starting to really worry now. He seems too far gone for reason; he's all up in his head and his ramblings has changed from about me to screaming, "No! Not right now! Leave me alone!" Is this what my concern has been all along?

_Is he mentally ill?_

I can hear his phone ringing from his pockets loud and clear, yet Stiles relentlessly pulled on his hair, pacing back and forth. I was stuck in my place, unsure of what to do. Looking around, all I see are trees and realized that Stiles had led me to the forest. We used to play here when we were little, even memorized the path by now. But, I can't – I don't remember it. I'm sure it's Scott, looking for us, or for him – I don't know what to think anymore.

I don't know why, but I found myself crying, feeling scared and hopeless. I don't know how to help Stiles and the sun is starting to set. The darkness is starting to envelop us and it's starting to feel like my dream.

His phone didn't stop ringing, but Stiles did. It was pretty scary to watch how he went from crazily rambling and pacing to standing still and calm, taking out his phone and silencing it. He straightened up his posture and glanced at me. With a swift move he started walking towards me, his face void of emotion but a smirk on his lips. His eyes got darker, his aura got colder. I started walking towards him, hands shaking and hugged him tight, whispering, "I'm here for you, Stiles."

I've studied things like this before, abnormal psychology. Maybe he just had a manic episode – maybe he needs help. Unannounced, Stiles grabbed my hair and pulled hard as I screamed in pain. What is happening?

"Dear Isla, I'm so glad you're back." He said, his tone changed.

Maybe it was the cold breeze of air, or the fact that I'm beginning to be extremely terrified, but I shivered and he seemed to find fun in that, "You're hurting me, Stiles."

"So innocent…" He whispered, a menacing smile on him. Trailing his finger on my cheek, he laughed. "Oh, he cares about you so much. He hasn't fought a way out until you."

I'm terribly confused, I don't know what he's talking or whom he's talking about. "Stiles, why don't we just go back to Scott's? "

"Go back? Why should we go back? I'm going to have so much fun with you, sweet innocent girl," He replied, closing his eyes it seems he's having such a pleasure tormenting me, "God, the pain he's feeling because of this…because I have you. Oh, it feels so good, Isla."

_Even the way he says my name sounded wrong._

He slowly inched his way up my arms to my throat. Oh no…a very maniac looking Stiles was able to lift me up by my throat and pinned me on the tree, restricting my breathing. As I choke on my breath and wiggle my way out, I pray for Stiles, _my Stiles, _to come back. "P-please." I begged with rough breath. He smiled manically, but his eyes fluttered…yes, come back to me, Stiles. "St-Stiles, please…"

His face turned to confusion, deep black eyes turning to the hazel ones I've been waiting to see. It took him a second to register what was going on and stared widely at the hand that's torturing me. His face wrinkled in sorrow once again, "Oh god…Isla."

He broke down. Knees flat on the floor, sobbing. I grabbed the tree for support, breathing roughly. I tried to stabilize my heartbeat and the fact that I almost died in the hands of my best friend just a second ago. Seeing him beaten down, I didn't hesitate to kneel right in front of him and took the torn boy in my hands.

He held on to me so tight it reminded me of how he was choking me just a second ago. But no, this is Stiles: _he came back._ _He's back._ I couldn't do anything but lay a soothing hand on his back and rub it slowly in circles. I'm thoroughly confused. He kept muttering an apology, "I'm so sorry…I didn't…it's not me, Isla. Oh god…I've hurt you. No…no, not you…"

That's how Scott and the Sheriff found us: Stiles clinging on to me for dear life as I try to comfort him the only way I know.

It might've been the odd lighting, but I swore Scott's eyes were red.


End file.
